


My Lady

by aquaartistcat



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Pining, Pre-Canon, shes a lesbian, shes totally pining for her lady-in-waiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaartistcat/pseuds/aquaartistcat
Summary: Joanna and her lady-in-waiting talk beside the fireplace.
Relationships: Joanna (Bill & Ted)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	My Lady

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that there were no Princess-centric fics on here so obviously I stayed up until 6 a.m. writing this! Enjoy! 
> 
> EDIT: I was originally gonna have this be a multichapter fic but decided that the chapters were better as different fics. The previous title was 'The Many Names of Joanna'.

Orange flames flickered up from the logs in the fireplace, sending glowing embers upward through the chimney until they disappeared from sight. The warmth was welcome, as that night the stone castle may as well have been made of ice. The northern winds had brought cold with them, and Joanna almost wished that she lived in the far off lands that visiting travelers had told her of, where the sun always shines and the cold never comes. For now, though, she was stuck watching the fire burn in her chilly quarters.

“Don’t get too close to the fire, my lady.” A stern but caring voice sounded from behind her. Joanna turned to see Margaret, her lady-in-waiting, preparing her bed. Joanna hadn’t even realized she was there, nor that she had been leaning closer and closer to the flames as its movements entranced her.

She rose, and smoothed the front of her skirt. It was brand new, a beautifully embroidered emerald fabric that complimented her eyes nicely. At least, that was what Margaret had told her. But she trusted Margaret, as she was the only lady-in-waiting of hers who refused to lie in order to please her. She was less of a servant and more of a friend, if Joanna was being honest. They had known each other for nearly their whole lives, after all.

Margaret finished fluffing her pillows, and turned to face the princess. An orange glow was cast over the room, illuminating the woman’s youthful face and tired smile. “You know, my lady, that fire looks much like your hair.”

“Is that so?” Joanna replied, sitting down on the newly made bed. “Is it because of the color?”

“The color, and much like your hair, the fire is wild and unwieldy.”

This elicited a mock gasp from Joanna, who picked up an especially fluffed pillow and hit her with it. “How dare you! How dare you insult my hair? This hair is royal!” She swung the pillow another time for good measure.

Margaret laughed, catching the pillow and shoving it back at the princess. “How dare you hit me? I am a royal servant!” Joanna fell back and pretended to faint from the attack, if one could even call it that. She was glad that she was able to enjoy herself with Margaret. It wasn’t often that she was allowed the simple pleasures of friendship and jokes.

Joanna sat up, holding the pillow against her chest. “We mustn't let Elizabeth see anything like this. Surely she’d think you a scoundrel and tell Father.”

Margaret sat down next to her. “Even if she didn’t think we were fighting, she may still be as upset. She is quite prim, and as much as I care for her, she is not as enjoyable to be around as you, my lady.” The reflection of the fire shone in Margaret’s brown eyes, and it almost looked as if her soul was visible. Joanna was just as entranced by the dancing flames as she was by those dark eyes which looked upon her with such love and compassion.

There were few who loved Joanna like Margaret did. Of course all of her ladies-in-waiting cared for her, as it was their duty. They were all there to serve, but rarely did they have any incentive to befriend the princess. Perhaps, she often thought, the women feared that they would be stepping out of line. Other times she thought that perhaps they just didn’t like her.

Elizabeth was always there as well, but a sisterly love is much different. One does not choose to have a sister, nor does she choose who her sister is, so the love isn’t earned in any meaningful way. Despite this logic, Joanna still loved Elizabeth. They shared the life of being princesses as well as the pains of being their Father’s daughters. Even beyond the unchangeable circumstances that they faced together, Joanna appreciated and respected her sister as a person, especially her love of literature and music.

They both loved music, of course, and being princesses, were given the privilege of hearing some of the finest musicians in the country play. Margaret wasn’t as enthusiastic, however, sometimes telling Joanna “If you wish to hear a song, my lady, sit in the garden and listen to the birds. I find their melodies sweeter than any flute.” That was another thing that Joanna loved about her friend. She always spoke her mind.

“I suppose Elizabeth is a bit more traditional than I,” Joanna replied. “But don’t hold that against her. Father would say that she is a more proper lady because of her mild manners.”

“Proper doesn’t always mean better, my lady.” Margaret pointed out.

Joanna wished that Margaret didn’t always refer to her as ‘her lady’. It was much too formal for a casual chat between friends. “To Father it does.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, and Joanna watched as the tall flames grew shorter and shrunk down until the once roaring fire was merely a pile of charred wood. Margaret stood up, kneeled in front of the hearth, and arranged a new pile of wood before blowing on the dying embers until a small flame started. “It’s getting late, my lady. I’ll help you out of your dress.”

Joanna nodded, and moved so that she was facing Margaret, who began unlacing her bodice. It was quite silly, considering the princess was perfectly capable of undressing herself, but her servants had always taken the task upon themselves. She waited in silence, feeling her friend loosen the laces as their faces were so close that she could feel her friend’s warm breath on her skin. She had always cherished these few moments she spent each night with Margaret. It was the closest she ever was to the woman, and she especially relished the fleeting seconds when her friend would look up from her clothing to her face, and Joanna would see Margaret’s brown eyes staring up at her. When it was just the two of them like that, it felt like there was no one else in the world.

Moments like that were when Joanna longed to be with Margaret most. Of course she was with Margaret during those few minutes, but the princess wanted more than that. She wanted to look into her friend’s eyes not just once or twice a day, but during every waking hour of her life. She wanted to talk to her and joke with her whenever they pleased, not just in private when there were no other servants or royalty to sneer at their closeness.

Joanna felt a burning fire in her soul, one that grew stronger any time she was with Margaret. It was warm and comforting on days when her Father was being especially harsh or she felt especially sad, but scorching and painful on days when it grew out of control and there was no wood to feed it; no eyes to stare into for hours, and no face that she was able to reach out and touch, if only to feel the soft skin against her fingers.

She often dreamed that her lady-in-waiting arrived as a suitor rather than a servant, and that Margaret’s cherry-red lips kissed her hand and professed love for Joanna instead of the pale lips of princes and noblemen who saw the princess as no more than a doll. She knew that these fantasies were illogical and impossible, but still, she couldn’t help but wish that her friend was something more.

While these thoughts flowed through Joanna’s mind, Margaret finished unlacing the bodice and slid the garment down off of her shoulders. She made quick work of the skirt, removed the princess’s shoes, and soon enough Joanna was left in her loose linen undergarment. The cold bit at her now, and she could feel the hair on her arms and legs stand on end.

“Thank you, dear Margaret.” Joanna smiled as she spoke. She hoped that the woman knew how much she meant it, and how truly dear she was to her.

Margaret bowed her head and blew out a nearby candle. Now it was just the fire that lit the room. “Sleep well, my lady.” And with that, she left Joanna alone in her chambers. The bed was made nicely, save for the stray pillow that she had been swinging around.

She climbed under the covers in search of some relief from the cold loneliness she felt. She closed her eyes, letting the orange glow be replaced by darkness. Even though she was alone while she slept, Joanna never felt lonely. A friend in a dream could be as good as a friend in the waking word. And perhaps tonight she would dream of Margaret.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos are welcome but I especially appreciate any and all comments. Also, happy almost 6/9! I'm gonna have a long awaited update for a different fic on that day so expect something.
> 
> (Side Note: There is one glaring error here that no one but me will notice or care about: In the movie, their bodices don't lace up in the front, but front-lacing bodices are historically accurate and also convenient to my narrative so I changed it.)


End file.
